


Modify

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Mutantstuck [26]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Homestuck
Genre: DIY piercing, Mutantstuck, in a field in indiana by a professional tattoo artist, please do not do this at home, that's how i got my third set actually, unless you're a tattoo artist in which case it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Yep, your memory was right on how much this was gonna hurt—not much. It's a sharp sting that actually doesn't last as long as when Roxanne pushed the needle through to make the first set of holes in your ears—she hesitated, you guess. Wade definitely doesn't, though; three seconds and he's got the lil' hoop set in, bending the ball end to the bare wire end to complete the circle.Ambrose makes an attempt to put another couple holes in himself. D objects to this plan, but only because he doesn't trust his bro to get it right on his own.
Relationships: D Strider (Alpha Dave)/Wade Wilson (Deadpool)
Series: Mutantstuck [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1309922
Comments: 13
Kudos: 110





	Modify

"Put the god damn needle down, Ambrose." 

Dammit, you're busted. You grimace at D in the mirror, waving the felt-tipped pen you're holding like that's a good way to make a point. "Not a needle." 

"Cool. Where _is_ the needle, then?" He rolls his eyes at you and steps into the bathroom with you; you see his eyes flick to the counter, catch on the lil' packet there for long enough to weigh the likelihood that he'd be able to beat you to it (nonexistant thanks to the fact that in this situation speed beats the ability to speak to corvids) and come back up to your reflection for a moment. Then his hand comes down on your shoulder, and you swallow a sigh and let yourself be turned. 

"C'mon, dude, it's just—" 

"You're _so_ not piercing your own ears." 

"Well we both know _you're_ not doing it—you can barely give yourself your shots—" 

"That was like ten years ago, I'm like, used to it now—" 

"Enough to stick a needle through my ear?" 

"Well—" 

" _Twice_?" 

From the face he makes, you decide to count that as a victory. Well, part of one. "You're not doing it." 

"Roxanne ain't here." Ah, _shit._ His expression shifts the tiniest bit—it'd be more, but he catches himself, doesn't quite let his face crumple up in the pain that _you keep forgetting_. Fuck. _Fuck._ "I—nevermind." 

"Nevermind as in forget you said that, or as in you want me to shoo?" 

"How about both?" You'd really like him to leave so you can get back to poking some new holes in yourself, but somehow you don't think it's gonna be that easy. 

"Not unless you're gonna hand those needles over." D makes a grab for them with the hand that's not on your shoulder, and you flick your hand down and snag them first, closing your hand into a careful fist around them. Can't crush the packaging yet, after all. "God damn it, Ambrose. Where'd you even get piercing shit anyway?" 

"Internet. The kids didn't drain the oldest accounts, y'know." Probably because you—well, he—fuck it, because they hadn't been used in a long while. You're not really sure if he kept depositing in them or if he just did some fuckery with interest (or both) but there's enough money for you to make any questionable purchasing decisions you decide to. "Disposable, sterile, I know what I'm doing." 

"Sort of." 

"Yeah, sort of." 

D groans, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Wow, you've gotten pretty far into exasperating him already. Neat. "Ambrose." 

"Yeah?" 

"Give me the needles." 

No fuckin' way. The movement of clutching the packet up to your chest is damn near instinctive. "Nuh-uh." 

"You big baby, hand 'em over. You'll get your goddamn piercings, but you're _not_ doing them yourself." D holds out his hand and gives you the sternest look he knows how to produce. (So, not very.) " _Now,_ Ambrose. I'm being serious here." 

Ah. 

You didn't think you actually responded to that tone—mostly almost-parental authority with a lil' bit of vague threat mixed in—but D's been practicing it since the last time he tried to use it on you. You guess having to wrangle a handful of kids _would_ do that. And while you're aware that he has very little real authority over you, that you've basically played big brother half the time anyway...it's compelling. 

"Fuck you." It comes out more pissed-off than you expect, as you huff and drop the packet of needles into his outstretched hand. 

D actually smiles. "Yeah, yeah, but this way you'll have two holes that like, actually match." And he turns and heads out of the bathroom, with your god damn needles. 

Fuck. You _knew_ you should have just bought the value pack.

* * *

Amazingly, he comes back, along with Wade. Wade's missing his mask, which is a vague surprise; the guy's stayed pretty much in his semi-disguise around you, for whatever reason. You've never felt like asking, honestly. Might end up getting a sword somewhere painful. 

Nah, probably not. Wade's sweet on D, D still loves you, you're safe. Mostly. Well, you would be if you weren't pretty sure that you'd heal from whatever he could possibly do to you. 

Okay you're already regretting the plan of letting him near your head with something sharp and he hasn't even touched you yet. Why are you like this. Why the actual fuck are you like this. 

"Bro. Earth to Ambrose. Quit panicking?" D grabs your arm and nudges you to sit down on the toilet lid, leaning down. For a second you wonder why the hell he's looking at you like that—not like you got a concussion—and then he gently turns your head, first to the left and then to the right. "Dude, I can't believe you got these this straight." 

Oh yeah, the marks. "Hey, I spent time on that shit." 

"Yeah, well, good job." D snorts and lets go of your chin, straightening up and looking over at Wade for a second. "I'm guessing this isn't something you're going to rethink?" 

"Nope." It's the same question he asked about your original piercings. And the tattoo on your arm, that you painstakingly did yourself over a couple weeks when you were twelve. And the one at the bottom of your ribcage that you actually went to a professional to get done. "Besides, it's _earrings_. Not like I can't just pull 'em out and let 'em close if I change my mind." 

"He's got a point." Wade flashes you a nearly predatory grin, extricating one of the needles from the packet and nudging D out of the way so he can stand in front of you. "Close your eyes and breathe out." 

Closing your eyes is just about the last thing you want to do, but you deliberately think about all the chances Wade's had to take a chunk out of you and didn't, and do it anyway. There's a set of soft rustling sounds that you somehow can't quite process, and then his hands're on the side of your face, warm even through the thin disposable gloves. 

Don't move. Don't move. Don't move or you'll fuck it up—

Yep, your memory was right on how much this was gonna hurt—not much. It's a sharp sting that actually doesn't last as long as when Roxanne pushed the needle through to make the first set of holes in your ears—she hesitated, you guess. Wade definitely doesn't, though; three seconds and he's got the lil' hoop set in, bending the ball end to the bare wire end to complete the circle. 

"Ow." You open your eyes, reaching up to check if the lil' wetness you're feeling is the lubricant from the needle or blood. D grabs your hand halfway. 

"Nope." 

"That's fair." Yes, you could pull out of his grip. Instead you just hold very still until he lets go. "You plannin' on doin' the other one?" 

"Hey, I figured I'd give you a minute to recover." Wade laughs and tucks the used needle back into the case, fishing the other one out. "Guess the healing factor helps with that, huh?" 

"Nah, I just wanna get it over with." 

"A man after my own heart. Eyes closed again, hot stuff." 

"Really. 'Hot stuff.'" You probably shouldn't be talking when he's about to stab you, but whatever. You've already got your eyes closed again anyway. "D, he's cheatin' on you." 

"Nah, we talk about who's hot and who's not all the time, don't worry." D pats your shoulder, on the opposite side to where Wade's messing with your ear. "You're hot, but like, in a related to me way. All Striders are hot." 

"Mhm—ah, _shit_?" There's the needle again. He's just as fast this time but it feels like it hurts more, maybe because you didn't relax this time. " _Ow._ " 

"Sorry. Kind of." 

"Wade, make just a bit more of an effort there. Anyway—what's the occasion?" 

"Occasion." Yes, you know exactly what he's asking, but it's easier playing dumb than talking about your habit of picking up new body mods in reaction to stress. "No occasion. Just wanted some new earrings, is all." 

"I'm feeling a lie there," Wade mutters, fumbling to close the second hoop. 

"Oh, fuck you. I'm _fine_." 

"Hey. Ambrose." D sighs, and you hear him shift around. Until he reaches up to put his hands on the sides of your face and you open your eyes in surprise at the touch, you don't really realize that he's moving to kneel in front of you. "C'mon. It's me. Just me. Just us. Bros talk about shit, remember?" 

"I—" Shit. Oh, shit, your voice catches in your throat before you can get more than one word out and you have to either close your eyes or have it made glaringly obvious that you're about to start leaking. "Fuck." 

"It's okay, man." Maybe you're not doing such a great job at not having it be obvious that you're crying a lil' bit, because D's thumb smooths across your cheek like there's...let's just say _moisture_ there. "I wanna help. All I want to do is help you. No judgement." 

He means it. It's D, of course he means it, and there's that sense of disconnect that's hit you way too often lately, half of your brain clearly saying _suck it up_ and half of it just wordlessly screaming for you to just accept the help that's offered. And usually you go with the first half, but as this whole god damn situation attests, right now you're at your fuckin' limit. 

You can just barely see how Wade stiffens when you slide off the seat and onto the floor with D—dude's wired like someone who fights for his life on a daily basis, he knows you can be a threat. Maybe once D would've reacted the same way, but not now. Now, he just pulls his hands off your face before your decision to move puts them too close to your freshly-pierced ears, looping one around your shoulders and cradling the back of your head with the other as you sort-of collapse into him. 

Funny how there's absolutely no tears now. Now that you can bury your face in his shoulder and hide anything that you gotta hide, nothing's gonna come out. Stupid fucked up emotional regulator. Or whatever the fuck. 

Stupid fucked up _you._

Okay that's the kind of shit that'll give you a reason to be guilty in therapy later. Stop that shit. Just...listen to D. 

Actually, no, he's just doing that thing where he talks to you, low and soft and pretty much meaningless. It's the same way he used to talk the kids to sleep on the nights when it was his turn; seems to work pretty well for you too. Or maybe it's just being held—it's stupid, but five fuckin' years of no contact apparently left you with some new issues. 

Still, the bathroom floor isn't the best place to get a lil' relief from those issues. Plus Wade's gotta be judging your weird-ass version of a breakdown—who the fuck just goes quiet and clingy when he's falling apart? Like, you've only really seen Dave fall apart this bad, and while he _also_ doesn't look like your idea of a normal breakdown, he sure as fuck looks more believable than you do right now. 

So. You give it the minimum amount of time that you can manage—five minutes? A lil' more? A lil' less?—before pulling away until D gets the message on what you're trying to do and lets go. Ideally you would get up off the goddamn floor now too, but D grabs for your hand as you pull back and that plan goes right on the scrap heap; you can't really bear the idea of getting any further away from him right now. Not when he's lookin' at you like that. 

Eh, as long as you don't look over at Wade it'll be fine. Probably. Again, focus on D. 

"You are _definitely_ not fine," he informs you as soon as you do that. You have to bite your lip so you don't start laughing, since if you start that shit you're probably not gonna stop. "Plan on telling me why?" 

Oh, shit. 

It's like. 

You used to be able to pass as D's older brother instead of the younger one. You should be almost a year older than Jeff, but it doesn't feel like it anymore. The year on the driver's license the twins got you is right, but the age isn't, you haven't lived enough years for it. Cronus and Roxy were buying bulk birthday candles off a mad shady website and asked you how many you'd need on your next birthday cake and you opened your mouth and didn't fucking know what number to say. It's so fucking stupid that you're falling apart over _numbers_ when you've been experimented on and tortured and come closer to dying than a human really should be able to, but all the same that's exactly what you're doing. 

But see, all that isn't something you can just condense down to explain to D right now, so you shake your head and swallow around the vice that's settled around your throat again and force out, "I don't know how fuckin' old I am anymore, bro, I—" 

"This is the kind of thing you give yourself piercings for, huh?" Wade asks behind you. You flip him off with one hand and reach up to cover your eyes with the other; might as well pretend he's not seeing you if you're not seeing him. 

"Wade. Zip it." 

"Literally or figuratively?" 

"That's—what do you _mean_ literally? What the fuck?" 

God you wish you did not think about this shit enough to know the answer to that. "Literally would be a fuckin' ziplock bag 'n a hot glue gun." 

"Ooh, I was thinking superglue, but hot glue would definitely work. It'd take a little bit longer to heat up, but then again you don't have to sit still as long waiting for it to dry—" 

D smacks what sounds like his fist against what sounds like the wall. It's loud enough to startle Wade into silence (surprisingly) and you into opening your eyes. "I hate both of you equally. I hope you know that." 

"Love you too, bro." 

"Same here. Are we going to address the whole 'body modification to deal with stress' thing, or just let that slide?" 

Oh fuck no. The roll of toilet paper is conveniently located on the back of the toilet tank, within easy reach; you twist to grab it and hurl it at Wade. "Nope." 

He dodges. Dammit. D sighs. "Yeah, we are." 

"No thanks." 

"Why the hell did you even have piercing supplies, anyway? I can't believe you were planning this for long enough to have them shipped—" 

"Didn't plan it at all." This was more spur-of-the-moment than anything you've done in the last ten years; the fact that you had the supplies at hand just meant that it didn't quite count as outright stupid. "Hal—he said something about wanting a nose stud a while back, I figured I'd get the shit and do some bonding at some point—" 

" _Ambrose._ " The look on D's face is somewhere between horror, righteous fury, and resignation. "You were going to pierce my kid's nose." 

Huh. Maybe you shouldn't have admitted that. "Uh. Yeah, that was the eventual plan?" 

"Ohhh my god." 

"I got one of your kids a chest tattoo!" 

"Wade, you _asked_ first." 

"It's still more permanent than a nose piercing." 

Wait. Is he actually... "Dude. Are you _defending_ me here?" 

Wade shrugs like that's a stupid question. "Why? Am I doing it wrong?" 

"I mean. Sorta feel like it's the thought that counts here, honestly." You're just baffled that he's even trying. It's not like you've had a lot of solo interactions with the guy; you sort of figured that he still had you on probation thanks to the whole clone-of-a-guy-he-killed thing. "It's, y'know. Weird to have you on my side." 

"I think I'm actually on Hal's side, but close enough." 

"Everyone's on Hal's side." D rolls his eyes, the hand that's not still loosely gripping yours coming up to swipe through his hair. "Well. Except Dirk, most of the time." 

"They don't fight all that much." 

"Ambrose, I love you but you need to admit that the kids are _totally_ capable of keeping you from seeing shit. They don't fight like _you_ would, is all." 

Ouch. Like, really ouch. You should really be paying attention to keeping your expression at the same level that it's been at for the rest of this discussion, but obviously you're fuckin' failing at that since D winces and squeezes your hand as you open your mouth and decide to close it again instead of saying something stupid. 

"You know that wasn't what I meant, bro." 

"Eh, don't worry about it." Good to know you're still decent at sounding like you're fine when you feel like you're being held together by next to nothing at all; D's concern levels don't seem to spike at all when you flap your free hand dismissively at him. "Ain't even close to the first thing that hit that button today." 

"I don't think that's as reassuring as you think it is, but okay." 

"'Reassuring' wasn't exactly what i was going for anyway." You flash him a grin, carefully keeping it in place when Wade pushes off the wall he's leaning on and comes over to drop into a crouch next to you. That's not all that hard; holding still when he reaches up for the fresh piercing sort of is. "Uh, dude—" 

"I just want to see if you're still bleeding, keep your shirt on." While you're still processing that, Wade's fingertips brush across the spot where your jaw meets your throat, coming away with a tiny smear of blood. "Hm. Does it still hurt?" 

You kind of got distracted from that, actually. Ironic, since half the point of poking holes in yourself was to distract from the emotional shit. "...not really." 

"Not really as in it doesn't hurt?" 

"As in, I feel like I remember it hurting more when Roxanne did 'em." Touching newly done piercings is bad. There's all kinds of neat infections you can get from doing that, after all. Then again, you've got super healing, so...

It doesn't hurt when you prod at the hoop. Hurts a lil' bit when you twist it, but like you forgot to turn it for a couple days and it started healing wrong, not the sharp hot prick of the tiny open wound that you remember from the first time. 

"...huh." Damn, the healing shit's weird. Wade's grinning at you, when you focus on him again. "What?" 

"Nothing. It's just hilarious watching you come to the realization that you can poke as many holes in yourself as you want with almost no consequences." 

"Oh my _god_ , Wade, don't tell him that—" 

"Chill, D." The other ear's just as close to healed, when you reach over to check it. "It's not like I do this _that_ often." 

"Yeah, because you have enough sense to wait until each one heals to start another." 

You should probably not say this. "Nah, more 'cause Jeff usually talks me out of it." 

Fuck. D's staring at you. You definitely shouldn't've said that. It wouldn't be that bad, but staring at you is _all_ he does, for long enough that you have to force yourself to stop fidgeting with the new hoop in your ear before he calls you out for making yourself bleed again. 

"You do this kind of thing when you're about to have a breakdown," he says, finally. " _Instead_ of having a breakdown." 

Damn, you _really_ want to argue that, but he's really not wrong. "Yeah, pretty much." 

"And you don't tell me." 

Oh. Shit. "Uh." 

"Ambrose, I _know_ you have two new tattoos since you came back to us. And what, three piercings?" 

"I took 'em all out before they finished healing, c'mon." Well, you took them out and they healed back over. The only one that left a mark was the nose stud. Dammit, you can't believe you didn't realize that had something to do with your healing factor until fuckin' _Wade_ pointed it out for you. 

"You're missing the point." 

"I'm _avoiding_ the point. That's different." 

"True, that one means you're smart but still a dick." 

Ah, now you're back on familiar ground. Insults as a familial love language. "Love you too, D." 

The just-barely-there smile that flickers across his face tips you off that that's what he wanted, but he still isn't planning on letting the subject drop. "But there _were_ three." 

Dammit. Well, you're not gonna lie to him. "Four." 

"Four? Where—" 

"You don't wanna know." 

Wade laughs. D just gives you the exact same look you got when you mentioned giving Hal a piercing. "How old are you again?" 

God fucking damn it. It's a joke, keep it as a joke, you can handle this. "Not old enough to know a bad idea when I think of one, obviously." 

"Obviously. So...seven times Jeff didn't catch it and you didn't even _try_ coming to me." 

"Pretty much." There is absolutely no way you can salvage this. "Didn't we already go over the fact I'm a fuckin' idiot?" 

"You're not an idiot." 

"Babe, maybe rethink that one." 

"You know what, that's fair—Ambrose, you're a _little_ bit of an idiot." 

"Wow, thanks." 

"What the hell do you want me to say?" D pulls his hand free of yours, shoving his hair back with both hands and giving you a look that's trying really hard to not be purely frustrated and mostly failing. "That I'm fucking _proud_ of you for refusing to come to me or Reaux—hell, even to the kids, Hal and Dirk aren't horrible at talking through shit, Roxy's great at defusing, Rose can use at least a little of the shit she gets out of all those online courses? You want me to say that's a good decision, well done?" 

He's not attacking you. He's not attacking you. Stop thinking he's attacking you. "Look, at least I go to Jeff, right?" 

"When he's there." 

"I can't help it if he's not there when I—" 

"You can come to your god damn family, Ambrose!" 

"No the fuck I can't—" 

Wade reaches out and snaps his fingers in the air between you and D. Once again, it's enough of a surprise to get you to shut up, although part of that might be that you really don't want to be forced to explain your reasoning here. "You two do know you're not really getting anywhere here, right?" 

He's really not wrong. If anything, you feel worse than when this whole clusterfuck started, and by D's expression he does too. Hell, unless you totally forgot how to read him he actually feels _guilty_ about this shit, which is...both baffling and shitty. "Got any suggestions, then?" 

"I thought you'd never ask—" 

"Wait, you actually have a suggestion?" D blinks at him, eyebrows rising. 

"Would I offer one I didn't have?" 

"...is it a _useful_ suggestion." 

"You be the judge." Wade grins in a way that makes you think it's not going to be a useful suggestion. "Part one—get up off the bathroom floor." 

D looks over at you. You look back at him, and answer for both of you. "Yeah, that's fair." 

"Part two? Call your therapist and tell him—or is it a her? Them? Anyway, go in together next week." 

D's the one who answers this time, with a wry grin. "Okay, that one should've been obvious if I wasn't so offended." 

"That's what I'm here for, hot stuff—witty conversation and keen observations. Also dirty jokes. Part three! Go do something. Actually part two and part three should maybe switch spots. I don't know when psychiatrist hours are. I tend to get mine in not-quite-legal venues anyway." 

"Yeah, well, I don't even know what time it is so I feel like you're still ahead of me." Time to get up, you guess. It's a lot easier than you expected it to be. D grabs your hand when you offer it; Wade just rolls to his feet in a motion that's smooth enough that you feel just a smidge inadequate. "What kinda thing are we doing, anyway?" 

"Are you asking me or D?" 

"Anyone who's not me. Legality's optional." 

"It's _really_ not." 

"Oh come on, D, let us have some fun—" 

"Fun that doesn't get us all arrested, yes. Fun that means the kids try to break us out of jail? No." 

You have to admit that's fair. You also have to admit that you didn't expect to go from piercing your ears because of a lowkey breakdown to hanging out with your bro and his weird mutant assassin boyfriend, but hey, this definitely counts as an improvement.


End file.
